Not So Different
by Dreamboat Kicks
Summary: Why Sunshine kissed Gerry in the locker room. NOT slash and that's the whole point. . .


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Disclaimer: **The only characters (such as they are) that are mine are Will and Brian. Everyone else belongs to Disney.   


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I look in the locker room mirror and run my fingers through my newly-cut hair. I try to smile, but it comes out crooked. I miss my long hair. It was in. All the girls dug it. I don't understand why Boone made me get it cut. He acted like hair didn't matter, shrugging off my protests with a   


It's just hair, boy. Now, do you want to play football or don't you? It's ridiculous. What's hair got to do with football? I was the star quarterback and captain back home. Half the guys on the team had hair longer than mine. A brown face appears in the mirror beside me. His name's Petey, I think.  
Sunshine, sunshine, he sings. His goofy, innocent grin doesn't fool me. I know what he's what he's doing. Bating me. Testing me. Trying to figure out what kind of guy I am. I do not need that. Not when I'm upset about my hair. I know that just one of my punches could send him flying across the floor, and that would be the end of it. But something tells me that he's an okay guy. Like he could be my friend if I let him.   
Sunshine, huh? I ask, turning around and standing up, so I'm eye level with him. I like that. I dig it. That's cool. I hold out my hand, palm down, so he can slap me five. It's a cool move some of the black guys at my old school taught me.  
It's obviously not the reaction he expects. He blinks and looks confused. He looks at the other black guys for help. A few smile encouragingly, but most stare back at him, equally unsure. The captain, Gerry Bertier, stops folding a towel and watches us intently. I see another white boy, Ray, narrow his eyes and glare, as though I've done something I'm not supposed to. Louis (enormous and white) and Blue (black and also big) stop chattering about the Temptations and stare at us hopefully. I don't get it, but I decide not to let it bother me. I raise my eyebrows expectantly at Petey. He grins at me and finally slaps my palm. All the guys burst into applause. (Except Ray, who throws a disgusted look at the ceiling.)  
_Applause?_ I think. _What's the big deal? And what's Ray so mad about? All I did was slap the guy five. Why was he nervous about slapping me back? Why do the guys seem to weigh there actions when they're talking to someone of a different color? True, some do it a lot more than others, but why do it at all? Is all that junk about race that I read in the newspaper back in California? Are the schools and restaurants actually segregated here? That's supposed to be ancient history.  
_Whatever the reason is, I can tell the guys are nervous. They need something to rock their world. Something that'll shock every last one of them. Make them all one and the same, even for just a minute. But what? Suddenly, a memory comes to mind. The time at school last year when Will double dared my best friend Brian to kiss me on the mouth. In the hallway. Between classes. Right in front of God and everybody. He did it, of course. I felt like killing him, and I probably would have, too, except that he decided to ditch the rest of school and lit out through the window before I could get my hands on him.  
It's perfect. And I know just who to do it to. Gerry Bertier who was rude enough to insult me out on the field. I chat with Petey for a bit until Julius (who was talking to Gerry) walks past me and says something about using the showers. I make some sort of excuse to Petey, leave, and wander around the locker room for awhile, killing time.  
Then I spot Gerry and lean on the wall next to him, painting a worshipful, I'm-head-over-heals-in-love-with-you look on my face. If I'm going to sacrifice my reputation for a single moment, I'd better make that moment good.  
Where's Julius? Gerry asks, not giving me a second glance.  
In the showers, I say, carelessly.  
He gives me what was meant to be a quick look, but it jerks to a stop when he sees my expression.  
What do you want? He looks clue less, but sounds suspicious.  
You know what I want, I reply.  
He stares at me, looking as clue less as ever.   
In answer, I do exactly what Brian did to me. Pucker up my lips and give a big, noisy, wet one right on the mouth. The gasps and shrieks I hear come from everyone, not just black or white. In a fleeting instant, before Gerry wrenches himself away and goes crashing to the floor, I think that maybe that's why Boone's so tough on everybody. Maybe he does it to give them something they can feel the same way about. Even if it's hate. Although, from what I gathered from the conversations I overheard, the guys don't seem to hate him as much as they used to. Maybe he and I aren't so different. And maybe I haven't sacrificed my reputation completely.


End file.
